The Pauper's Tale
by Commodore Norrington
Summary: Harry Potter is living a perfectly normal life, until a mysterious letter arrives for his cousin.  Why is his mother so worried, and his aunt so excited?  A journey into Uncle Sev's memories may provide the answers... AU with DH spoilers!


Huge thanks to my wonderful beta, Margaret! Unfortunately, I was not able to find a Brit-picker for this story; however, I think that I've avoided the most glaring things. :)

I've had a lot of fun with this AU and I may be continuing it with other stories; it's too intriguing to leave alone!

* * *

><p>"Why does he always have to come?" Dudley scowled, jerking his head toward the dark-haired man in the corner. The man was, as always, impeccably dressed. Even Aunt Petunia could find no fault with the neat creases in his shirt and trousers, though Harry always thought they looked somehow odd on him, as if he were not used to wearing them.<p>

"Dunno," Harry shrugged. "Friend of our mums, isn't he? I think they feel sorry for him, no family and all."

"Yeah," Dudley's brow furrowed, "but why does he _come_? Not like he likes it." And indeed, the man took that opportunity to prove Dudley's point by glaring fiercely at the boys through his curtains of black hair.

Harry shrugged again. He couldn't say he enjoyed these little family reunions much more than the mysterious man they knew only as 'Uncle Sev', but it was hard to muster much curiosity on this torpid June day just a week before the summer holidays.

"Where's Uncle Basil got to, anyway?" Dudley continued irritably, annoyed by Harry's lack of interest in the conversation.

"Went to get the ice cream," Harry mumbled.

"Some Evans family reunion," Dudley snorted. "None of the Evanses are having anything to do with each other."

Harry considered this. Aunt Petunia was, as usual, spending most of her time cleaning up after everyone else. His own mum was worried about something; he could tell by the way she kept shooting glances at Uncle Sev and throwing herself into the cooking with a kind of manic ferocity. Uncle Basil, who was not all that close to his much-older sisters in any case, seemed to be making an effort to escape their mad domesticity and had really only been seen at mealtimes.

All in all, Harry was not terribly crushed that this weekend would end after Dudley's birthday party tomorrow, even if it did mean a return to school.

* * *

><p>Dudley woke Harry with a yell of delight the next morning. Groping for his glasses, he heard paper ripping and further squeals of excitement. When he finally shoved the frames onto his face, the scene that met his eyes was something like a paper-and-ribbon massacre.<p>

"Three new videogames, Harry, look!" Dudley crowed, throwing them at Harry. "_And_ the water pistol I've been begging Mum for. A little stingy this year, but not too bad…"

"Happy Birthday, Dud," Harry said sincerely. It would be easy to be jealous of Dudley, he supposed, with his brand-new toys and his many birthday presents. But he and Mum did all right for themselves, and she always made his birthday memorable. Besides, Dudley could be a bit of prat sometimes, but he was all right, really.

"Here," he called, tossing his cousin his gift. "It's not much…"

"Thanks, Harry," Dudley replied, tearing off the hastily taped newspaper to reveal a large chocolate bar.

The boys made their way downstairs into the streamer-filled kitchen. Another small pile of presents and cards lay on the table and in the corner…

"A BIKE!" Dudley shrieked, and if any inhabitants of the small rented cabin had not been awakened by his previous outbursts, they were now.

"Happy Birthday, Diddy darling!" Aunt Petunia beamed.

Uncle Vernon gave Dudley a hearty slap on the back. "Eleven, eh, son?"

Sometimes – though it was rare these days – these kind of father-son moments would catch Harry off-guard and give him a sort of stabbing pain in his stomach, but he was glad to find that today was not one of those days. It always confused him to be jealous of Dudley for having a father, because Uncle Vernon was not at all the sort of father Harry would wish for. Shaking these thoughts from his head, Harry made his way over to his mother, who was pulling something out of the oven.

"Morning, Harry dear," she smiled, giving him a small kiss on the cheek as she expertly tipped the muffins onto a cooling rack. "Sleep well?"

"Weird dreams," he shrugged. She frowned slightly, but was distracted from asking any more by the bacon smoking on the stove.

"Happy Birthday, Dudley!" boomed Uncle Basil from the kitchen door. Dudley's eyes lighted up at the sight of him. Only nine years older than Harry and Dudley, Uncle Basil was as close to a cool older brother as they would get. How he and Aunt Petunia could have come from the same genes had always been a mystery to Harry; his mum often said that Basil had been a surprise, in more ways than one.

"Not in the house, Basil!" shrieked Aunt Petunia. Her brother had just punted a last-year's World Cup football across the room, which landed with a scattering of cards in front of Dudley's delighted face.

"Sorry, Tunia," Basil grinned, quite unapologetically.

Harry bent to pick up the fallen cards. Tossing them back onto the table, he noticed one envelope that didn't look like a birthday card at all. It was fatter than the others, and made from a different kind of paper. There was a wax seal on the back, and the address on the front was written in bright green ink. As Harry reluctantly placed the strange envelope with the others, he saw three pairs of eyes staring at it. His mother was looking at it with alarm; his aunt with a sort of mingled fear and elation; and Uncle Sev, for a fleeting moment before he rearranged his face into its usual blank slate, with unadulterated shock.

Harry almost forgot about the strange envelope during the hubbub of breakfast, but when the dishes were finally cleared and Dudley began tearing into his cards, shouting exultantly with every ten-pound note that fell out, Harry looked for it again. To his surprise, it seemed to have vanished from the table entirely. He looked around for his mum, wondering if perhaps she had sneaked it off the table; it had seemed to frighten her, after all. But the envelope was not the only thing to have disappeared: his mum, Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Sev were nowhere to be seen.

Uncle Vernon was occupied with helping Dudley open his cards and Uncle Basil had his head buried in the fridge. Harry stood up quietly and edged toward the kitchen door. No one noticed him go.

There were voices coming from the hall. He was about to interrupt them, ask what was up with the funny letter, when he heard his own name.

"…was afraid of this, but I thought it would be Harry!" Lily was saying.

"I daresay we all did," Uncle Sev muttered in his low voice.

"But…how?" Aunt Petunia whispered, in a somewhat awed tone.

"The genetics of magic are…complex," Uncle Sev answered. Harry's ears pricked. _Magic_? What was going on? What did that letter say? "Clearly there is some wizarding gene in your family –" Lily gave a sort of low moan. "– however repressed. The question is not so much how, I think, but what are you going to do about it?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Aunt Petunia retorted blusteringly. "Dudley's going to go! If I couldn't, at least my son…" She trailed off, and Harry wondered what kind of looks she was getting from his mother and Uncle Sev. "Well, I should think you two of all people would be supportive!"

"I am, Tuney, it's just…" Lily's voice was a strangled whisper. "After all I've been through…"

"I didn't ask –"

"You didn't have to!" Uncle Sev hissed. "She gave up everything, _everything_, for you! You can tell yourself whatever lies you like, but you know – you've always known – that she turned it all down for _you_. And now, to spit in her face and allow your son to enter the world she left –"

"Severus!" Lily stopped his tirade. "That's not what I meant, Tuney. I just thought you hated magic, hated that I was a…freak." She whispered the last word.

There was no reply from Aunt Petunia.

Uncle Sev, however, spoke up again. "Ah, but it's different now, Lily," he explained, his voice low and smooth and, Harry thought, rather vicious. "Now she's not the one being left behind. Now it's her that's special."

"That is not fair!" Aunt Petunia finally exploded. "Lily didn't have to –"

But what his mother didn't have to do, Harry never found out. Aunt Petunia's yell had alerted the men in the kitchen and Harry's uncles rushed through the door to see what was wrong.

"What are you doing?" Uncle Vernon asked Harry suspiciously, spotting him lurking by the staircase.

"Nothing," Harry replied, trying to sound casual. "I was, er, just going to the loo."

Uncle Vernon didn't look convinced, but seemed to decide that the yell that had brought him from the kitchen in the first place was more important.

"Petunia, dear," he called. "Anything the matter?"

Harry followed him into the hall; Uncle Basil, determining that the situation was not urgent enough to need him, and likely to contain lots of shouting and perhaps even tears, had retreated back to the kitchen with Dudley.

"No," Aunt Petunia answered quickly, though Harry thought her gasping breath rather gave the lie to that answer. "No, Vernon, everything's…fine." Harry saw the thick envelope in her left hand disappear quickly behind her back, but Uncle Vernon didn't notice. Harry couldn't blame him for having his attention elsewhere; Uncle Sev was giving him one of his famous stares, the kind that made you extremely grateful that looks _couldn't_ kill…and a little bit nervous that perhaps they _could_.

His mother's eyes, however, were focused on him, and he noticed that they were rimmed with red, their usual bright green somewhat dulled. He frowned. All this over a stupid letter for Dudley?

"Well," Uncle Vernon cleared his throat nervously, looking away from Uncle Sev. "Shall we, er, get back to Dudders' birthday, then?"

"Oh, yes!" said Aunt Petunia, in an unnaturally high voice. "Let's!"

As everyone headed back to the kitchen, however, Harry felt a hand grip his elbow.

"Come with me," Uncle Sev muttered in his ear. Harry wanted to make some excuse, find some reason not to go with this weird and slightly frightening friend of his mother's, but Uncle Sev's tone would not allow any argument. Besides, Harry was deeply curious about that letter, and thought perhaps Uncle Sev could be persuaded to tell him something about it.

Uncle Sev had led him upstairs to the small room he was staying in. Lily had told him he was being silly, that he could share a much larger room with Basil, but he had insisted on sleeping alone. At first Harry thought there were no windows in this room, it was so dark, but realized that the one small window had in fact been covered by a thick curtain. Uncle Sev must have flipped the light switch, though Harry hadn't seen him do it, because the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling suddenly turned on. It gave off a dim orange glow that didn't do much to dispel the shadows in the corners of the closet-like room.

Uncle Sev turned to look at Harry. His black hair hung neatly to just below his ears, and his black eyes blazed out at Harry over a nose that put Harry in mind of an eagle's beak. To avoid that penetrating gaze, Harry's eyes dropped to Uncle Sev's midriff.

Harry could feel Uncle Sev's hot breath on his face and was growing more and more uncomfortable. How much did he know about this man, really? How much did his mum know? Wild thoughts about mad axmen and escaped convicts rushed through his head and his eyes darted around the room, as if expecting to see a bloody ax next to the nightstand.

Without warning, Uncle Sev's hand shot out and grabbed Harry around the neck. Harry tried to cry out, to scream for help, but the pressure on his windpipe was too strong. Stars popped in his eyes as he struggled to breathe; his hands scrabbled feebly at the man's fingers, trying to loosen his grip. Darkness crept around the edges of his vision, growing, closing in…Harry's hands dropped to his sides, too weak to fight against the older man…He was floating away, into sleep, into dreams…

There was a red flash and Harry found himself flat on his back on a rather uncomfortable mattress, staring up into the glittering black eyes of Uncle Sev. He drew breath to yell for his mother, but the searing pain that tore through his throat sent him into a coughing fit. Uncle Sev watched passively, his face, as usual, betraying nothing of his thoughts. By the time Harry was finished coughing and looked up at him with streaming eyes, he had decided against calling for his mum. What could she do, anyway? Uncle Sev would only kill her as well.

"Nothing," the man muttered, shaking his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked angrily, his voice coming out raw and hoarse.

"It means I attacked you," Uncle Sev answered coolly, "and you did not defend yourself."

"Well, it wasn't for lack of trying," Harry scowled. Why was he playing with him like this? "Why'd you let me go, anyway?"

"I have no wish to kill you." Uncle Sev's calm tone was infuriating. They might have been discussing the weather. "I only wanted to test my theory, and I was correct."

"Theory?" Harry choked. "You wanted to test a theory by _strangling me_?"

"It required forcing you to defend yourself against an unexpected attack."

"If this is your idea of an explanation, it's not very helpful," Harry spat, irritated.

"This is not an explanation," Uncle Sev sneered. "Had my little experiment turned out differently, I would have, perhaps, _explained_. But as it is, I can tell you no more."

"Does this have anything to do with Dudley's letter?" Harry asked desperately.

He thought perhaps he might have succeeded in surprising Uncle Sev, but not for long. The older man's lips curled upward in what might have been a smile.

"Ah, how history repeats itself," Uncle Sev murmured. "Your mother, too, read a letter meant for someone else. And look where it has gotten her…"

"As I recall, Severus," a cool voice interrupted from the doorway, "it was you who stole that letter and we read it _together_."

Harry's heart leapt, despite the danger. His mother stood there, arms crossed, green eyes blazing, leaning calmly against the doorframe. He had never been so happy to see her in his life.

"Why is Harry in your room, Sev?" Lily asked conversationally, when Uncle Sev failed to respond to her previous comment. Despite her tone, her eyes were snapping and Uncle Sev retreated slightly.

"I was just," he muttered, "trying to see…"

"See what? If my son is a wizard?" Lily pressed, still in that dangerously calm voice. Harry's stomach gave a funny jolt. There was that wizard stuff again. "You don't think I've been watching for the signs ever since he was born? You don't think I would have told you straightaway if I had even suspected?"

"We shouldn't be talking about this right now," Uncle Sev said firmly, though he still refused to meet Lily's eyes.

"Oh, I think Harry has a right to know why you've just tried to strangle him," Lily retorted.

Uncle Sev's head snapped sharply upwards at this. His eyes met Lily's, burning with fury. "'Harry has a right to know'?" he hissed. "If that's the case, then 'Harry has a right to know' _everything_, don't you think? Like why his father left?"

Harry's heart felt like it had just dropped into his knees. Lily's expression darkened and Harry thought she might hit Uncle Sev, but a moment later her eyes were brimming with tears and she nodded slightly.

"You're right," she said shakily. "It's time he knew. Especially if Dudley…"

Uncle Sev put his hands on her shoulders and guided her with surprising tenderness to the bed. She sat down next to Harry, taking a moment to compose herself before turning to face him.

"Harry," she began. "There's something about me that I never told you. I'm…well, I was…a witch."

Harry stared at her, uncomprehending. What did she mean? She ran around naked at the summer solstice and worshiped Satan? She rode around on a broomstick, put the evil eye on people, and was friendly with black cats? _Ivanhoe's a tabby_, he thought stupidly.

Lily looked helplessly at Uncle Sev. "I can't," she sighed. "There's too much. Is there any way…?"

Uncle Sev apparently knew what she was referring to and shook his head. "I can only show him mine," he explained, a twinge of apology in his voice. "With time, I could brew a Memory Potion for you…"

"No, no," Lily waved off this suggestion vaguely. "Yours should be enough."

"Come here," Uncle Sev beckoned to Harry. Harry obeyed automatically, fear and excitement mingling in equal parts in his chest. On the one hand, this man had just tried to kill him; his throat was still sore and he was pretty sure he would have a hand-shaped bruise on his neck soon. On the other hand, he was about to find out what had really happened to his father…

"Look into my eyes," Uncle Sev commanded. Harry did, staring into the hard, black depths as if trying to make out an image in the dark. The room around them began to fade; all Harry could see were those eyes, like deep pits, and he felt like he was being pulled into them. They grew larger – or maybe Harry was shrinking as he flew toward them. The flying sensation continued as everything went dark; he was inside them, like pitch-black tunnels.

And then suddenly, he was in a brightly lit park, staring at two children his own age who looked vaguely familiar.

"I got it, Sev, I got it!" squealed the red-haired girl, waving a piece of paper in the air.

"Told you," grinned the oddly-dressed boy, whom Harry realized was a twenty-years-younger Uncle Sev. "Who came to explain everything to your parents?"

"Professor Dumbledore," breathed the girl, who must be Harry's mother. "He's amazing. He turned the living room table into a pig and then told Mum and Dad they could write to him anytime if they had any questions." There was a pause as Lily recalled the scene, Sev watching the smile playing at her lips. "Oh, Sev, I can't believe we'll be going to school together! Learning magic! It seems too good to be true."

"It _is_ true," he assured her. "It's going to be amazing."

Harry's surroundings faded and then reformed around him. He was standing in a busy train station next to what looked like an antique steam engine. He saw his eleven-year-old mother standing with two people he recognized as his grandparents, and a blonde girl who must then be his Aunt Petunia. The two girls were arguing and near tears.

"You think I want to go to some stupid castle and learn to be a – a… – you think I want to be a – a freak?" Petunia cried.

The scene dissolved again. Now Harry found himself in a stone corridor, teenagers in black robes walking past carrying heavy books and rolls of that odd, thick paper that had formed Dudley's letter. He looked around for someone he recognized and spotted his mother and young Sev sitting on a stone bench. The boy's arm was around her shoulders and she was crying.

"I d-don't think I can take it, Sev," she sobbed.

"But, Lily, you were born for this!" he urged. "It's in your blood!"

"It's my blood I'm worried about," she retorted. "Tuney hates me –"

"She's just jealous," Sev said swiftly.

"I know that!" Lily replied. "But we used to be so close, and now she won't even read my letters. She sends them back unopened. I just…I don't want to lose my sister."

"It's not your fault she's not a witch," Sev tried to reassure her. "And it's not your fault that she can't handle that. What can you do about her being jealous, anyway?"

"I can make it so she doesn't have anything to be jealous of," Lily whispered.

Sev's arm came away from her shoulders in shock. "What are you saying?"

"I'm going to drop out," Lily answered, her voice strengthening with each word. "If I can't be a witch and keep my sister, then I don't want to be a witch. I choose her."

Sev looked as if someone had smashed a cricket bat over his head. "But…you can't do that. It's not possible. Is it?"

"I asked Professor McGonagall if a person could choose to leave the wizarding world. She said it was possible, but very few people had ever done it. And that once you leave, you can't come back."

Sev grabbed her by the shoulders, twisting her to face him. "I won't let you! Lily, think about it. You're the best in our year. You can't leave. Besides, you love it here. Don't you?"

"Let me go!" Lily wrenched out of his grip and stood up, tears streaming down her face. "Don't make this harder than it is! Of course I love it here. But some things are more important than what I want. Things like family. Things like love." She turned and ran down the corridor.

"What about people who love _you_, then?" he shouted after her. She either didn't hear him or chose not to reply, because she kept running. He stood up, fuming, then swore loudly and turned to kick a stone gargoyle that was standing nearby.

"Oy, watch it!" the gargoyle snapped peevishly.

Harry was back in the park where he had first seen the two friends. They were there again, a little older and more subdued than before.

"Thanks for meeting me," Lily was saying. "I wasn't sure you'd want to see me anymore."

"Of course I do," Sev replied, reaching out to take her hand. She didn't pull away, but Harry didn't think she was very enthusiastic about the contact. Apparently, young Uncle Sev got the same impression. "I'm surprised you wanted to see _me_, actually. I thought you were cutting off all contact, trying to make your sister believe you were…normal." He couldn't keep the sneer out of his voice.

"She doesn't know I'm here," Lily answered miserably. "But I had to see you, Sev. I don't want to lose you, even if I can't go to Hogwarts anymore."

"You won't lose me," he assured her gruffly, gripping her hand tighter. This time she responded, squeezing his hand in return and offering a small smile.

There followed a quick succession of images in Harry's mind:

Sev looking mildly uncomfortable as he sat with a group of hulking boys around a fire in a dimly green, stone room. The boys were laughing unpleasantly at a drawing one of them had apparently done, showing a stupid-looking girl being subjected to horrible abuse by a thin man with a snakelike face.

Sev and Lily lying on their backs in the grass, holding hands.

A boy with glasses and wild hair – Harry was startled at first, thinking he was seeing himself in that strange castle – whispering excitedly to another boy with longer black hair. As Sev passed them, they glared darkly at him and the bespectacled boy said loudly, "That's right, Sirius, I just got another letter from Evans. She sends her _love_." Sev stiffened but walked on.

Sev and Lily shouting at each other across a swing set.

Sev, scribbling feverishly with a quill pen. Several thick textbooks lay open on the desk in front of him, with titles like _Muggle Psychology_ and _Muggle Relations: 1692-Today_. Across the top of his essay was scrawled a title in the same cramped handwriting that filled the rest of the page: 'Torn Between Two Worlds: An Examination of Muggleborns and Their Conflicting Loyalties'.

Sev hugging Lily as she sobbed onto his shoulder. Harry noticed that Sev was looking better-groomed than he had been, much more like the clean-cut and neatly creased Uncle Sev he knew. A blonde girl peered around a bush, watching them.

And then Harry was back at the castle again, and Sev was standing surrounded by the same hulking boys he had been with earlier. His nose was bleeding and there was a good-sized lump forming above his left eye. The boys were all scowling and pointing thin wooden sticks at Sev.

One boy had an extra stick that he was tossing carelessly in the air and catching again. "What are we going to do with you, Severus?" he asked, sighing in mock regret. "You had such potential. Such a gift with the potions, and even a knack for making up your own spells! I mean, there was that Mudblood that followed you everywhere, but we can't always help –"

"Take it back, Avery!" Sev snarled, his hands balling into fists.

"And there it is." Avery's eyes narrowed. "Defending a Mudblood, Severus? You're better than that." He tutted. "You used to think our jokes were funny, used to think the Dark Lord had the right idea. Don't tell me you don't want the power anymore? The glory?"

"Some things are more important than what I want," Sev muttered, almost to himself.

"Stupid," Avery said softly, dangerously. "Nothing is more important than what you want. But I suppose your Muggle girlfriend told you otherwise." A slow, nasty grin grew across his face. "Tell you what, Severus. You like Muggles so much, why don't you join them?" And he raised the stick he had been tossing, holding it both hands as if he meant to break it.

"Expelliarmus!" a voice roared from behind Avery. The stick flew out of the big boy's hands and Sev caught it deftly. Avery's friends were looking around stupidly, trying to see who had done it, but it seemed that the perpetrator was invisible. In the confusion, Sev managed to slip away…

Harry was standing again in the park with the swing set. Sev was sitting on it, scowling, as Lily dragged Petunia into view.

"What'd you bring her for?" He was trying to sound disdainful, but Harry thought there was a slight undertone of fear in his voice.

"You two are the most important people in the world to me," Lily answered, unperturbed. "And I don't want to live a double life forever. I know you got off to a bad start –"

"She insulted me, and my family!" Sev insisted.

"Yes, and you completely dismissed her because she was a Muggle," Lily replied. "Neither of you was on fine form that day. But that was seven years ago! Can't you put it behind you?"

Sev looked dubious.

"I'm sorry," Petunia said in a small voice. Lily looked almost as shocked as Sev.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," she said again, louder. "I'm sorry I said you were poor, and made fun of your clothes. I'm sorry I called you a freak and a weirdo. I was jealous of how much influence you had over Lily, and I was scared for her."

Sev was staring at Petunia as if she had grown a second head, but Lily was beaming. "There now!" she grinned. "Sev?"

"Why'd you change your mind?" he asked suspiciously. Lily frowned; it was not the apology she had been expecting.

"I…" Petunia hesitated. "When Lily came back from…school, I knew she was meeting you out here. But she had left because of me, and I couldn't ask her to give up any more for my sake. I didn't say anything, but I followed her sometimes. Just to make sure she was…safe." She glanced sideways at Lily. "When I saw you, I didn't even recognize you at first. You weren't that weird kid who never washed and wore oversize clothes anymore. And you were a good friend to her. I saw you comforting her after Dad died."

She seemed to have said her piece. Lily was looking at Sev expectantly.

A muscle was twitching in his jaw; it looked there was a lot he wanted to say. But when he finally spoke, it was only a few words. "I'm sorry, too."

Lily made them shake hands and then hugged them both, which rather surprised the two of them.

"Well, this is all really interesting," Harry said aloud. "But what does it have to do with my dad?"

As if in response to his question, the scene shifted yet again. He had a brief glimpse of a wedding – his mother resplendent in a white dress, the boy who had looked so much like Harry himself beaming at her; Aunt Petunia, from her position just behind Lily, glancing nervously at the pew where Uncle Vernon was seated next to Uncle Sev and seemed determined to ignore him; Uncle Sev staring at the bride and groom completely expressionless – and then his mother was handing a small bundle to Uncle Sev, a bundle that squirmed and waved a small fist defiantly.

Uncle Sev gazed at the tiny, black-haired baby, emotions warring across his face. Something between grief and anger won out, and he all but shoved the baby back at Lily. She frowned slightly but accepted the child, cradling him lovingly in her arms.

"He's got your eyes," Sev said after a pause.

"You think? They're a bit dark–"

"They're yours," Sev interrupted with finality.

Lily smiled at him, a little sadly. "You would know, Sev."

There was a heavy silence.

"Would you be his godfather?" Lily's words were spoken quietly but they reverberated in the hush like a shout.

Sev looked dazed for a moment, as if he'd been slapped, then his eyes narrowed. "What does James say about this?"

Lily's gaze dropped, but she spoke confidently. "We talked about it. He wasn't…thrilled, but he said if it was important to me, it was all right with him."

"And is it?" Sev pressed. "Important to you?"

"Very."

As the scene dissolved again, Harry heard a heartrending scream echoing through his head. The hair on the back of his neck stood up; it sounded as if someone was having their heart torn out.

He was standing in a hallway with Uncle Sev, whose was looking unusually rumpled. He stood motionless, staring in the direction the scream had come from. He looked as if the thing he wanted most in the world was to run down that hallway toward that scream, but something was holding him back.

"Some things are more important," he chanted to himself under his breath. "Some things are more important…"

Another cry started up, a smaller, weaker cry. Sev looked down; Harry followed his gaze and jumped. A small boy stood next to Uncle Sev, wearing footed pajamas, his black hair sticking up in all directions. He could be no more than two years old.

Harry suddenly experienced a very odd sensation, like his brain was being turned inside-out. He was standing in the hallway with Uncle Sev, looking down at his two-year-old self, but he was also standing in the hallway, looking _up_ at Uncle Sev and crying miserably because he'd been awoken in the middle of the night and his mum and dad were gone and a lady was screaming and he was frightened.

Harry was grateful that his own memory of the night was limited to that brief flash; it was vastly uncomfortable experiencing two people's memories at once.

Uncle Sev hesitated, looking torn between the screaming woman and the crying toddler. He made up his mind, reached down, and picked up Harry, heaving him onto his shoulder and patting his back reassuringly – if somewhat uncertainly.

The screaming subsided, but it was replaced by the sound of pounding footsteps. The door at the end of the hallway burst open and a wild-looking man appeared, barreling straight for them. It took Harry a moment to recognize his father.

Uncle Sev, still holding Harry, stepped in front of the half-crazed James. Harry didn't think he was going to stop, even then, but he seemed to see them at the last moment and backstepped sharply.

"Get out of my way," he growled.

"What happened?" Sev asked, though his expression said he thought he knew.

"We…she…" James shook his head, deflating. "She lost the baby," he whispered. "She was coming too fast – the Healer said it's not uncommon with magical babies. Usually the mother's magic will balance things out, but Lily…" He trailed off, gazing into nowhere.

"But Muggle-borns…" Sev began, stopping at the look on James' face.

"I know!" James yelled. "It doesn't make any sense! Maybe Lily has some latent magic that complicates things. Maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe someone cursed her. I don't know, okay? And it doesn't matter! All that matters is that my daughter – my precious baby girl –" His voice broke and sobs racked his body.

"No," Sev said softly. "What matters is that you still have Lily. And the boy," he added, almost as an afterthought.

James threw an anguished look at the small boy nestled on Sev's shoulder. A dark shadow passed across his face and was gone; what had briefly been a scowl turned into a pleading look.

"I can't…" he whispered. "I don't think I can do it. I'm twenty-two years old, Snape, and already I've had a child die. My wife is a Muggle; my son is a Squib –"

"You knew it would be hard!" Sev retorted, eyes blazing. "You knew when you married her that your cozy pureblood life was over."

"I thought," James' voice was hard, "that love would be enough."

"Such a Gryffindor," Sev sneered. "Arrogant, romantic notions. Oh, it's brave enough to marry an outcast like Lily, I grant you, but now that it's _hard_, now that it _hurts_, you just run away. You may be a hero to everyone else, James Potter, but I know what you really are: a coward."

The blow came so quickly, and with such force, that Uncle Sev staggered backward, struggling to maintain his footing while still holding little Harry. He placed the child in a chair, then whirled to meet James' next attack.

It never came.

James ignored Sev, crouching instead so that he was face-to-face with his son.

"Goodbye, Harry," he murmured, clutching the young boy in a fierce hug. He kissed the top of Harry's head, full of his own hair. "Take care of your mum for me. I'm sorry."

He stood abruptly and turned on the spot, vanishing with a sharp crack. Uncle Sev was staring angrily at the place where James had disappeared, and two-year-old Harry began to cry again…

Ten-year-old Harry felt as if he were being sucked backward through a long tunnel and then somersaulted in midair. He found himself back in the dark bedroom staring at Uncle Sev, who had collapsed into a chair and was breathing hard.

"I'm sorry, Harry," his mother spoke up softly. "I should have told you. But after your father left, I wanted nothing to do with the wizarding world. I shut myself off, pretending I had always been a Muggle and had never heard of magic. Sev still insisted on coming by, of course," she said with a wry smile, "but I didn't want contact with any other wizards. It had been so hard leaving the first time…Your father convinced me I could live both lives, be in both worlds, but after he left I was just so afraid of being hurt again."

Harry nodded mutely. His head was so full, he felt like it was about to burst. He had a million questions, but no idea where to begin.

He suddenly remembered what had started this whole thing, what seemed like a hundred years ago but was in fact only this morning.

"So, Dudley's a…a wizard, too?" he asked. "He's going to that school that you went to?"

"It would seem so," Uncle Sev answered in measured tones. "Whether or not your uncle will be so accepting as your aunt remains to be seen."

"And I'm…" Harry tried to say this casually, "not?"

Uncle Sev exchanged a glance with his mum. "It…appears not."

"But my dad was one," Harry blurted. "And my mum, sort of. Dudley's aren't. Are they?"

"No, they're not," his mum answered quickly. "I can't explain it, Harry."

"The genetics of magic are complex," Uncle Sev said, for the second time that day. "No one has yet produced a satisfactory explanation for why some Muggles produce witches and wizards and some wizarding parents produce Squibs."

"That's what my dad said," Harry remembered. "He said I was a Squib. That's why he left, isn't it? He couldn't handle having a kid who couldn't do magic."

"_No_," his mother answered forcefully. "No, Harry, you mustn't think that. Your father and I had our problems, long before you were born, long before…he left. We were from two different worlds, two different cultures. That puts a strain on a marriage, and we were too young and immature to deal with it constructively. When," she took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut. "When your sister…died, that was just the last straw.

"James loved you, Harry," she insisted. "He thought the world of you. Never forget that."

Harry couldn't help thinking that this still hadn't kept his father from leaving, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to upset his mother further.

"We'll get through this," Lily continued, taking Harry's hand. "Together."

"Yeah." He forced a smile. "But, Mum?"

"Yes?"

"No more secrets, okay?"

She smiled sadly. "No more secrets."


End file.
